“Isn’t that cute.”
Emma’s voice was low and monotone. I shouldn’t say any more about Rachel. Emma had always been kinda jealous.
“I guess.”
“Anyway, what are you doing right now?”
“I was gonna go home. We closed early. Ran out of food.”
“Really? I thought you guys had, like, five freezers full of stuff in back.”
“We do. Usually. A lot of middle school girls came by to get fries. I guess because of the picture?”
“Whoa.” Emma whistled. “They tracked you down? That’s insane. Are you okay? That almost sounds scary.”
“Yeah, kinda.” I exhaled. Emma had always been really good at hearing what I wasn’t saying. It was one of the things I liked best about her. Maybe it was ’cause we were both used to people not paying much attention to us. Emma’s dad was too busy marrying and divorcing new women every couple years to be around much. Her mom and stepdad seemed cool, but she always said they loved their kid, Nathan, more than they loved her.
My stuff was less drama. My brother, Carter, was the golden child with the grades and the ambition and the looks. I was like the knockoff version. The crappier mini-Carter that my parents had stopped paying attention to ages ago. At least I was taller.
“I’m just glad they don’t know what I drive. For a second I thought there might be a few camped out in the backseat.” I leaned over to make sure I wasn’t right, but it was empty.
“If you closed early you don’t have to go home right away, do you?”
“I dunno. Why?”
“Maybe you can come over. I was supposed to have dinner with my dad but he bailed at the last minute. Again. I guess Lindsay had some event, I don’t know.” Emma trailed off. She never said much about her dad’s current girlfriend. “Anyway my mom and Martin are out somewhere, and Nathan is over at a friend’s, so I don’t even have him to play video games with. Pretty pathetic, huh?”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel.
Was she inviting me over because she wanted to get back together? Or was she just lonely, and curious about the flit, and she figured I’d answer? If I came, would it smooth things over, or would she think I was whipped? Emma wasn’t the kind of girl who would get back together with someone she thought she had on too short a leash.
Girls: I definitely need a translator.
“It’d be pretty hard for you to be pathetic,” I said. It was the least puppy-dog thing I could come up with that was still true.
“You’re sweet.”
“Just honest.”
“So are you coming over? I’ve got the whole place to myself, I think all night. Plus, if you go home there will probably be middle schoolers camped out at your house. And you just said you don’t have any more fries.”
I laughed.
“That’s an excellent point.” I tried not to think about how it might actually be an excellent point.
I couldn’t say yes until I knew what she wanted. If she was trying to push me into the friend zone, I should go home. It would be easier in the long run.
“Does this mean . . . I thought we were broken up?” It had only been a week since Emma had told me she “needed to just be alone for a while.” That put her two weeks ahead of schedule for “missing me so much,” if our last two breakups were any guide.
I know it’s pathetic that I didn’t just ditch her already, but there was something about Emma. She was really hot, obviously, but she was also good at reading people, at reading me. Like if I was down, or if I wanted to leave wherever we were, Emma always knew, sometimes even before I did. It was like she noticed me more than other people. And when no one was around, I’d catch glimpses of this side of her that was so . . . fragile. For most people she was on all the time, but when we were alone she was different. Smaller somehow, and sadder. It made me want to make her happier. And she had this way of looking at me sometimes that made me feel . . . I dunno, like something legit amazing. Emma made you want to be cool enough to hang out with Emma.
“Well we were,” she said slowly. “Do you still want to be broken up?”
“I never wanted to be at all,” I said truthfully.
“I never wanted to be broken up, I just needed me-time, you know? It’d be nice to see you. It’s lonely over here.” She sighed. The sound made my heart squeeze tight.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll be over in a little.”
Maybe this picture blowing up wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
chapter three
RACHEL
TUESDAY, 5:15 P.M.